Oh Captain, My Captain!
by Pikeru's Angel
Summary: An away mission goes horribly, horrible wrong, leading to a de-aged Kirk. Will the Enterprise ever get it's Captain back? Will someone finally get an insight on Jim's past?
1. Nightmares Don't Always Happen at Night

**A/N: I've been wanting to do this for a week, and finally got my lazy butt started three days ago. Please enjoy the fruits of my labors. I personally enjoyed writing it. What that says about my psycee is probably bad, but it is true.**

**Warning: Sensetive topics! Possible graphic abuse in later chapters!**

**(Line malfunction. Pretent this is a line. -_-')**

No one knew how the hell it happened exactly, but it happened.

Their Captain, James Tiberius Kirk, was, roughly, eight years old again.

McCoy scowled indignantly as he treated the still form on the biobed. Leave it to their Captain to piss off some species they knew nothing about and be beamed back to the ship as an eight year old. And leave it to their Captain to come back with a broken collar bone, a broken hand, bruised ribs, and covered with bruises and cuts everywhere but his face. Yes, because he was James Kirk, and James Kirk could do things no one would even think possible. Leonard certainly hadn't thought this was possible, after all.

The kid (and he _could_ actually call him that now) mumbled slightly in his sleep, twisting away as McCoy finished up re-setting his hand. He curled into the fetal position on the biobed, the mumble contorting to a whimper.

Bones raised an eyebrow, placing a gentle hand on the slim shoulder. Jim cringed violently. It wasn't even the shoulder than had been broken.

"Jim," the CMO whispered, knowing full well not to wake up a kid having a nightmare loudly. He'd learned that the hard was from Joanna. "Jimmy, wake up. S'just a dream, Jimmy. Wake up." The small blond stirred, turning to face the country doctor with blurred eyes. He blinked once. Twice.

He inhaled sharply, sitting up ram-rod straight. "W-where am I?" Fear layered his young voice, but there was something else too. Was that… relief?

"Relax, kid. Your on the _U.S.S. Enterprise_, okay? Your safe. I'll explain later. You just need rest." His voice was low and soothing, his southern drawl being put on slightly thicker than usual, all the while gently pushing his de-aged friend back into bed. Oddly enough, there wasn't any struggle put up from the small boy.

"Not tired." Jim immediately winced at his own statement, body ridged.

"Really? Well I'm telling' ya you need rest. And that's the doctor's orders." A quick nod and frightened blue eyes closed.

McCoy paused, sitting down on the bed beside his friend. Slowly, the young body relaxed, and McCoy couldn't help but relax as well. "Actually," he said into silence. "Since your not tired, why don't you tell me the last thing you remember?" It seemed like a good enough strategy. Maybe he could even find something out about his friends elusive past… Not that that was the only reason he was asking.

The body stiffened again, and Jimmy burrowed further into the thin Sickbay sheets. McCoy caught the tension easily.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." A pause. "Maybe I could go down to the mess and grab you a bite to eat." It was funny; people always said he had no real bedside manner, when that was the furthest thing from the truth. He had an incredibly good bedside manner, he just didn't use it on idiots. Or most adults, for that manner.

Blond curls shook from side to side in a negative. "Not hungry." The loud sound of a growling stomach begged to differ.

"I'll go and grab something' then. What do you want?"

A small shrug. "Doesn't matter." McCoy stood up, nodding as he decided some simple chicken soup would be the best bet when a thought struck him. Why hadn't he thought of that before he asked?

"You got any food allergies?" Because McCoy knew that if the kid could be allergic to every medication known to man, he'd have food allergies.

"Nuh-uh." McCoy nodded again, accepting the answer. He'd get to the problem of why their chatty Captain was so withdrawn as a kid later. After he got him something to eat.

So, one trip to the replicator and a shot of bourbon later (usually it was Romulan ale, but he figured he could go for the weaker stuff with a young Jim), McCoy was back in his patients room, watching as he fiddled with the soup but didn't touch a bite, occasionally looking up at the older man with a wary glance.

Finally, McCoy got tired of it. "Are you actually going to eat, or do I need to force feed you?" He rolled his eyes. "And Jesus, would you stop looking at me like that? What, you think I'm gonna go over there and hypo you with a sedative?" Jimmy winced, quickly getting to work on his food, and Bones raised an eyebrow. Odd reaction. Very odd reaction.

McCoy stood up, stretching tired muscles and clicking bones back into place. God almighty he was getting old. He blamed the young, accident prone crew. Well, Scotty wasn't young, but the way he acted he may as well have been younger than Chekov most of the time. And, of course, he blamed Jim, but any CMO would if they knew his entirely reckless and self-sacrificing tendencies.

He grabbed the bowl off the edge of the bed, quietly administering a small sleep aid to the kid. He'd said he'd always had insomnia once, and Bones intended to help with that while he was a kid if he could. He stood there, rubbing Jim's arm lightly and waited for his breathing to even out. It barely took a minute (59 seconds, actually, but it wasn't like McCoy was counting), but he still didn't leave. He checked the door, making sure it would be opening any time soon. He sat down on the bed again, hazel eyes softening in a way anyone who knew him wouldn't have thought possible for the crotchety country doctor. He gently stroked blond curls away from closed blue eyes. A small smile graced normally scowling lips, and it looked twice as natural. McCoy was born to be a parent.

The sound of footsteps quickly retrieved him from his revere, and he snapped up, looking as though her were just walking to the door to take the bowl out. Spock stood in the doorway just as it slid open, and McCoy thanked the heaven's for having heard the Vulcan's light footsteps through the door. If Spock has seen him… He's have never lived it down. McCoy quickly stepped out, the door shutting behind him.

"Doctor," Spock said, half in greeting and half in… something. McCoy could never tell with the green blooded hobgoblin. "I was wondering on the status of our Captain." McCoy desperately wanted to smack him. Always formal, always emotionless. He'd seen the kid when he was beamed up!

But, somehow, he remained calm. "He's fine, as far as I can tell. A few things broken, a lot of cuts and scrapes, but otherwise fine. Have you talked with the officer who was down there with him?" He wanted to know what exactly had happened down there, and the only person who would know that was the security officer who had gone down with their idiotic captain. What was his name again? Franklin? Finnegan? Something like that.

"Cadet Finnegan is unaware of what has conspired after he was rendered unconscious, but the Captain was not injured when the… ritual began. We can only assume it was during the ritual that he was injured and de-aged, as Finnegan awoke as soon as the event was finished."

Primp and proper and to the point, with no unnecessary details. Now that McCoy could deal with.

And suddenly, and idea struck him, and he dearly hoped it didn't sound as insane out loud as it did in his head.

"Mr. Spock,"

"Yes, doctor?"

"Would it be possible, and this is just a theory, that if Kirk were de-aged he'd have whatever injuries he's had at that age?" He questioned, and it did in fact sound a lot better aloud than rattling in his mind.

Spock nodded. "It would be the logical assumption."

Logical. McCoy nearly scoffed. At least there was one logical thing about this whole situation.

"Then I don't think it was the natives that caused these injured. The only question is, how did an eight year old sustain them?" The answer seemed obvious, but there was no way in hell McCoy would ever admit that. Ever. It would explain a lot though.

Spock's head cocked to one side, and McCoy wanted to slap his hand over the Vulcan's mouth before he said it. "Are you suggesting the Captain was abused as a child?" He sounded almost… disgusted, which would make sense if it were anyone else. But this was Spock. The emotionless, green blooded, space elf. Then again, McCoy could have just been inserting his own emotions to hear. Or he could just be getting good at reading the Vulcan's tone. Now there was a scary thought.

"That might just be, Mr. Spock." He said quietly. "That might just be."

Spock's shoulders tensed. "Would it be alright if I spoke to him?"

McCoy shook his head, leaning against the wall beside the door. "Not yet. He still needs rest. I'll call you when he wakes up though." He paused. "Go easy on him when you do. I don't think he can take a lot of stress at the moment. Try and give him the barest details you can on what happened, okay?" Spock nodded absently, turning on his heel when he stopped. If anyone had asked, McCoy would have sword those pointed ears _perked_. Like a cats.

"Doctor?"

"Yes Spock?" McCoy was honestly curious as to why Spock would have froze in such a manner.

"Does the Captain often have… night terrors in this state?"

"Possibly. That's why he was woken up in the first place."

A pause, and a flicker of emotion McCoy couldn't quite identify flashed in dark eyes. "Then I suggest you check on him." And he was gone.

McCoy stared, dumbfounded, as the Vulcan walked off. White-knuckled hands were clasped behind his back as he went with the usual stride, though his shoulders were tense. He was clearly holding back on his emotions, but to Bones the signs were clear. He was angry about something. What was Jim saying that would make him that upset? Or maybe it was that combined with the "fact" (they weren't sure, but he probably was) that their Captain was abused as a child?

McCoy turned swiftly, walking back into the room, the bowl still in his hand.

Jimmy was twisting and turning on the bed, wrapped up in the sickbay sheets, fighting off invisible demons. His blond hair was stuck to his head and a thin sheen of sweat was visible on his brow even from the distance Leonard was at. Muttered words, muted slightly by quiet sobs, escaped quickly from terrified lips. McCoy couldn't believe what he was hearing. All suspicious were confirmed in an instant.

"I'm sorry!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

"No, no. Please…"

"I didn't mean to,"

"I'm sorry…"

McCoy walked over quickly, kneeling down by the bed. "Jimmy, wake up. It's just a nightmare, Jimmy. You're on the _Enterprise, _remember? No one's gonna hurt you kid. Come on, wake up!" He gently shook the kid's shoulders, trying desperately to wake him up. Thank God for Vulcan hearing, or he wouldn't have known. He'd thank the green-blooded hobgoblin later…

Finally, Jimmy's blue eyes cracked open, shinning with unshed tears. McCoy pulled him into a tight embrace. "You're okay, Jimmy. You're okay." Who was he trying to convince though, the kid, or himself?

* * *

**A/N: Don't worry, there's more to come! I hope... this was written to cure writer's block on another fic, so hopefully they'll go back and forth between chapters on curing the writer's block.**

**Like I said, I really hope everyone liked. I like insights into characters pasts, can you tell?**

**Also, and this is completly unrelated, does anyone know if Scotty had any siblings? There's another idea that's been bugging me even longer than this one but I wanna make sure I don't stray from cannon too badly. Of course, even if he doesn't I'll still write the darn thing, but there's a slightly lesser chance it'll be posted if he doesn't.**

**~Piki :B**


	2. Bouncing Back and Forth

**A/N: Not sure I really like this chapter as much as the last one. :/ It just seems... off, ya know? Maybe it's Spock. I was never good with Spock. Hopefully I didn't mess him up too terribly badly. I'm sorry if I did. (-_-') Feel free to pelt me with rotton fruit for any and all OOCness.**

**(Lines still hate me at this spot.)**

Spock listened quietly just outside his Captain's door, hands clasped behind his back and looking as casual as a Vulcan could, which was actually rather casual. It was considered eavesdropping, he knew, but a Vulcan's curiosity (and worry, perhaps?) could never be extinguished that easily. "Curiosity killed the ca, but the answer brought it back." Well, Vulcan's did descend from certain species of feline… Hence, they purred. Occasionally. Not often.

The sound eventually died down, leaving murmured comforting words to fill the silence. Spock decided that that might have been the best time to make an entrance.

"Doctor, I was-" He cut himself off at the scene before him, and two eyebrows shot up straight into his hairline

McCoy was coddling their young Captain, holding him close to his chest while rubbing small circles in the child's back. Tender words that not even Vulcan ears could hear were said into the blond head. The Captain in question shook in his arms, his breath hitching ever so often. Tears streamed down flushed cheeks, staining the doctor's medical blues. Every so often a whispered apology would come, only to be stifled. If Spock looked closely enough he could swear there were tears in the doctor's own eyes as well.

He opened his mouth, shutting it again quickly before taking a step forward so the door could shut. Emotional situations weren't his strong suit.

Finally, McCoy looked up at the half-Vulcan standing in front of the door, seemingly averting his eyes anywhere _but_ the biobed. He couldn't hide the smallest of grins. Leave it to Spock to try and give a sobbing kid some privacy after waiting outside the door.

"Jimmy," He said softly, and those damn Vulcan ears _perked_ again. "This is Spock. He's the First Officer on this ship." Spock finally looked over to the biobed, his body rigid. He looked about as awkward as McCoy had ever seen him. Jimmy curled up closed to McCoy, and it was suddenly apparent to the country doctor that his eyes were closed, breathing even.

"Well, looks like your late, hobgoblin. The kid's already asleep." He said, followed by a muttered, "Told him he needed to rest."

Spock quirked an eyebrow. "On the contrary doctor, I believe he is, as you would put in, 'faking it'." The little body tensed immediately, and McCoy almost wanted to scold the young boy. If Jim had been his older, normal self, he probably would have too, but the younger version was… different, to say the least.

Instead he simply, gently, pulled the child away slightly, looking straight into wide blue orbs. "I'm gonna leave you alone with Spock for a minute, okay? I've got a few things to take care of." _Like filing the reports explaining your de-aging, which I know'll just be God awful. _He thought to himself, placing his friend (could be still call him that? The kid barely knew who he was.) back on the biobed as he stood up. Awkward silence enveloped the room as soon as the door shut.

Finally, Jim was the one to instigate a conversation.

"H-how did I g-get here?"

His voice is cracked from earlier sobbing, and so much more quiet than Spock could imagine his Captain's ever being. Then again, he never could have thought that his Captain was abused as a child either, so the improbable had become truth.

There really was no way to answer that question; not without sounding completely insane. "Our Captain was sent on an away mission recently. Somehow, he managed to engage natives of the planet and they proceeded with some sort of ritual. The product was our Captain being temporarily de-aged. That would be you." And somehow, he managed to make to make it sound like a normal, everyday occurrence. Must have been the emotionless voice.

Brilliant sky-blue eyes widened in disbelief. "I-I'm the Captain?"

"Correct," the answer is sharp, without the slightest hesitation

"Of my own starship? Really?"

One eyebrow quirked slightly. "Correct. I believe that is what my previous answer entailed."

Jimmy's jaw dropped, before he quickly shook his head. "No. That… No. I'm not that stupid." He stops, looking at the half-Vulcan with a piercing look that Spock swears his heart skips a beat. "Am I?"

"By no means." And that's all he can offer, because he doesn't understand this younger Kirk's mind in any way, while he understood the older version at least some. He can't sooth a mind he knows nothing about.

There's another lapse of silence, and this one is longer because neither occupant feels the great need to break it. More importantly, neither of them know how.

"What is the last thing you remember?" It's the only thing Spock can think of to say. The only thing that can break the silence.

Jimmy freezes, small fists clenching at his side. Several things flash through the young eyes that should never be there, things Spock can't even pick out, before settling on sadness. As it does his hands suddenly unclench, and Spock can see small droplets of red on the nails and palms. A wave of protectiveness sweeps through him, but it doesn't show. It never does.

"Frank was mad at me." His voice is back to that quiet that still doesn't sit quite right with the Vulcan, and he vaguely remembers Jim mentioning Frank. It was his step-father. "I got in this fight at school. It was stupid, but it got me in trouble." He winced, absently rubbing the small of his back. "Mom was off planet again."

Spock's brows furrowed slightly. "How old are you?"

"Nine." The answer is so automatic, and suddenly he breaks out in a wide grin. "I'm going into sixth grade." He said, obviously proud of the achievement.

He can't help the muttered "Fascinating," that escaped his lips.

Jimmy's head cocked to one side before his lips made a small 'o' of recognition. "Oh right. I remember that one."

"Remember?"

A small nod. "Uh-huh. I read that word somewhere. It means something's interesting, right?" Spock just nodded, and Jimmy broke out into a grin. "It stuck then. Repetition." It suddenly dawned on Spock that there was one thing that the de-aged version of their Captain had in common with his older counterpart; they visibly bounced back and forth between emotions quickly. He wasn't entirely sure whether that was good or bad in a human that age.

A flash of worry passed through Jimmy's eyes at Spock's silence. The Vulcan blinked; he hadn't realized he'd stayed silent that long.

"Anyway," Jimmy said quietly, suddenly finding something incredibly interesting about the floor. "When can I leave? I hate hospitals."

"I will ask the doctor," Spock responds with a nod, turning on his heel to face the door, fully prepared to leave, when a small hand grasps his wrist. Fear and insecurity rush into his system, and he stiffened. The hand immediately dropped.

"S-sorry. I-I just.. don't go. Not y-yet." The voice was almost pleading, and Spock opened his mouth to answer when another wave of emotion came, stopping his voice in his throat.

"N-never mind. I-I just… never mind."

Spock turned, gazing down at the blond curls. Jimmy's head was down and he's biting his lip, clearly uncomfortable. Spock kneeled down, the movement stiff and awkward, and he wished he were more like his mother when it came to comforting and understanding. "I do not have to ask now. If you wish we could… talk. It is your choice."

Nervous eyes flickered up, and there was a small nod. "Could you?"

Spock nodded. "If you want." Maybe he got something from his mother after all.

Jimmy quickly went over to the biobed, pushing himself up. Spock followed, albeit at a slower pace, before sitting down beside the young boy, trying desperately to be near without actually touching him. Somewhere in his mind he realizes that his father was in the exact same position when he was young, after his first (and last) fight.

"What's your favorite book?" All things considered, it's a weak conversation starter, but he offers it anyway.

"_Howl's Moving Castle_. It's this really old book, back from, like, the twentieth century." A grin. "Calcifer's my favorite. He's a fire demon. What's yours?" And that's where Spock pulls a blank. Not because he doesn't have a favorite, but because he's not suppose to. Vulcan's don't have particular preferences.

So he paused for a second, then decided he might as well say. "_Alice in Wonderland." _Jimmy laughed.

"That's silly! Only little kids read that!"

Spock can't help but raise an eyebrow in amusement. "It was my mother's favorite. She read it to me when I was young." And he still liked it, oddly enough. The insanity and illogicalness was almost a release.

"'I don't want to be among mad people.'" Jimmy murmured, in a very Alice-ish tone.

"'Oh you can't help that. We're all mad here. I'm mad, you're mad.'" Spock responded, and though his voice lacked the actual emotions (if madness could be considered as such, because that's all that crept into the Cheshire Cat's voice), the quote was said perfectly. Jimmy burst out laughing again.

So the conversation was instigated. Eventually Jimmy seemed to get comfortable, and before either realized it, it had been almost two hours since they began talking. Amazing how a simple quote could start so much.

McCoy walked in around this time, halting Jimmy's sentence in its tracks. McCoy raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk on his face. "Having fun? You both realize it's almost nine o'clock, right? Jimmy was able to leave an hour ago."

"You never told us when he could though, doctor." Spock pointed out, and McCoy's smirk turned to the usual customary scowl.

"He's staying with you, by the way." He said dismissively, and turned around. The door opened just as he looked over his shoulder. "You don't mind, do you?" Before Spock could respond the door was already shut, leaving silence.

* * *

**A/N: And it is done! I love writing McCoy, I really do... He's featured in a good portion of my ST fics. Again, I apologise for the OOCness and offer you the chance to pelt me with rotton fruit for it.**

**Also, I don't know if vulcan's can purr. It's sorta fannon, and I don't know if it was ever confirmed in the original cannon, or even after, but I do know they decsend from felines like humans (if your an evolutionist) from apes. And about the ears perking thing... Yeah, that was just spoof stuff that I thought was funny. XD It would be awesome though if Vulcan's ears did perk!**

**Anyway, hope everyone liked, and I still need the input on whether Scotty had any sisters or not. ;) Seriously, I won't start writing that fic until someone gives me a yes or no on if he had any siblings.**

**~Piki :B**


	3. More than Mildly Shocking

Nyota Uhura had heard what happened to their Captain via Christine Chapel, but she still couldn't help but think little Jimmy was the cutest eight/nine year old she'd ever seen, no matter how annoying he was as an adult.

She walked into Spock's quarters without a second thought, and halted in her tracks, brow furrowed in confusion.

Spock was sitting on the floor, meditating as he was prone to do. He hadn't even appeared to hear her come in. What she found odd was the small form curled up on top of the covers on his bed. Blond hair mused and eyes closed, she could only guess it was the young James Kirk. She could make out the outline of a shirt somewhere off to the side of the bed, so she could only guess he'd taken it off before going to sleep. Spock did keep his room at an uncomfortably hot temperature to most humans, after all. The question was, why was he in Spock's room in the first place?

"Lights, thirty percent." She said quietly, hoping not to break Spock out of his meditation. The pointed ears still perked though, and one dark eye cracked open though. She didn't notice though.

Nyota stared at Jimmy, eye wide and mouth agape. His chest was covered with bruises in various states of healing and there were what appeared to be burn marks on his arms. "Spock…" She whispered, half out of shock, half out of not wanting to wake Jimmy up. "What happened on that away mission?"

Spock stood, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It wasn't the away mission, Nyota." She could hear the minute emotions louder than if he'd forced them into his voice. Disgust. Sadness. Protectiveness. It was amazing how much a Vulcan could express without meaning to.

"What do you mean?" The thought had crossed her mind, but it couldn't have been… Not Jim.

"Doctor McCoy believes he had these injuries at this age." He didn't say another word. She looked at him in shock.

"You mean…?" Spock nodded, eyes softening.

"It is likely." His ears perked suddenly, something which Nyota had gotten used to after being in a relationship for almost a year, and they both looked over to Jimmy. The young boy was muttering something, barely audible to human ears, as he curled up slightly.

Spock muttered something about being prone to nightmares, but Nyota was the one to make it to the bed, couching down beside the bed. She placed a hand on the slim shoulder, and the muttering quickly quieted down. Nyota looked over her shoulder at her t'hy'la, smiling slightly. You didn't have to wake a child up to stop a nightmare. Spock returned the gesture with a the slightest up upward turns to his lips and a mildly quirked eyebrow, but she knew him well enough to see it. She read him better than she read most languages, and that was really saying something. Though she had to pry open the lock a bit more for Spock than she did for trying to teach herself Romulan dialect.

"I assume I can't stay here tonight." Nyota said, sarcasm layering her voice.

"There does seem to be someone in your usual place." Spock responded, kneeling down to her with amusement in his eyes.

Nyota gave him a quick kiss. "Alas, 'tis true. Do you want me to leave?"

"No," he muttered. Her eyes half-closed as she leaned into him, but froze half an inch from his lips.

"We're being watched." She whispered secretively, eyes flickering to the small boy beside them. Jimmy giggled, burrowing his face into the pillow. Spock raised one slanted eyebrow, the corner of his lip twitching in that odd not-smile of his. Nyota turned on the young boy, poking him playful as she tried to ignore the bruises scattered across his chest. "You, my friend, are a little sneak." Jimmy laughed again.

Uhura ginned. "How long have you been awake?" She questioned playfully, and Spock's not-smile grew slightly.

"A while." Jimmy responded incumbently, getting up off the bed and grabbing his shirt off the floor. It was huge on him, considering it was the twenty-five year old Jim's gold shirt, but it was good temporarily until someone could find a child sized one. After all, it wasn't like the _Enterprise_ was made to be kid friendly, though with incidents like these…

"How long is "a while"?" Questioned Spock, suddenly joining in the conversation.

"Exactly how long it sounds like. A while." Jimmy responded, and Uhura was relived to find that he was acting in a somewhat normal manner for the adult Kirk.

"D'ya have anything I can draw with?" He questioned, head cocked in the exact curious manner a nine years olds should, though Uhura couldn't help but pick up on the hint of nervousness that wavered the sentence slightly.

Spock blinked. "I believe that there is a sketchbook-"

"Jimmy, it's almost midnight. You should be asleep right now." Uhura cut him off. Jimmy pouted slightly, but made his way to the bed no less, sitting down in a rather stubborn manner.

"Don't want to." He said, though the slight droop of his eyes said otherwise.

"Jimmy," she said in a warning tone, and Spock seemed to be watching the interaction like a tennis match.

"Fine, fine. But I get that sketchbook in the morning." And he curled up onto the bed, pretty much cocked out before his head hit the pillow.

Nyota walked back over to her Vulcan lover, who had at some point stood up and was currently standing beside the door. She quirked one eyebrow at him, trying not to smile. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

"I am not entirely sure that would be a good idea." He responded, eyes flickering to the sleeping form on the bed. Uhura laughed a bit.

"Fine," a brief pause. "Did you know he sketched?" she asked, and it was obvious to who she was referring. "I mean, the sketchbook could have easily been left by a one night stand."

"…My curiosity got the better of me." His shoulder's stiffened slightly. "He's incredibly talented." Uhura cocked her head to one side, taking a seat on the edge of he bed. Jimmy didn't stir.

"Really? I mean, it's surprising he draws in the first place, but how good?" She'd never really pegged _Jim Kirk_ as the artistic type. Then again, one's self as a child and one's self as an adult were often completely different people, so anything was possible. For all she knew he's kept the sketchbook from when he was a kid. Their Captain always was a bit of a pack-rat.

"His work is… incredibly realistic." The slightest of greens dusts his pale cheeks, and Uhura tried not to laugh because on Spock it just looks so _ridiculous. _She cocked her head to one side.

"Oh really?" She's genuinely curious about her Captain's skills.

Spock averted his eyes to the desk. "Indeed. I've never actually seen the sketchbook itself, but he has given me some of his work." He cleared his throat, and Uhura turned to where his eyes were locked. All she saw was the picture of Amanda that had been there for the last six months.

"Wherever it is I don't see it." She said with a dismissive shrug, absently petting Jimmy's hair; a rather soothing motion.

"You're looking directly at it." Nyota's jaw dropped.

"Seriously? He _drew_ that? I thought it was an actual photo…" She drifted off, amazed at the pure skill it would take to make such a _lifelike__** picture.**_

"Indeed." Spock muttered in response. Spock's eyebrow arched slightly, and Uhura knew that particular motion to mean ruefulness. "He said it was nothing; just a quick sketch. "Nothing special," to use his words." She turned to him, lips slightly parted.

""Nothing special"? Please tell me your kidding." There was no way someone's self-esteem could be _that low _about something so obviously amazing,

"Vulcan's do not kid." He looked to the small digital clock, also residing on the desk, and Nyota barely felt the touch of his lithe fingers on her shoulder. "You have your shift tomorrow; you should go." If it were anyone else Nyota would have thought they were trying to get rid of her. With Spock she knew he was just worried about her well-being.

Still, she pouted slightly. "I suppose your right. I'll be here in the morning to help you with him though. Though something tells me he's not a bounding ball of energy…" She stood up, walking to the door.

Spock gave her a quick kiss. "Your help is… much appreciated. I'm not entirely sure I want to take the younger version of our Captain to his quarters just yet."

Nyota nodded, a soft grin on her lips. "I'll be here before he wakes up so you can sneak off and get the sketchbook. G'night love."

"Goodnight Nyota." And the door shut softly.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry it's so short. I wasn't sure how to do Spock/Uhura interaction, and this is what came out. XD I wasn't even planning on doing this. Well, I don't plan period, but ya'll know what I mean... Anyway, someone (who shall remeain nameless because I can't remember their name. Sorry) requested Spock/Uhura in this fic, I like to give what my reviewers ask of me. I am sorely sorry, once again, for OOCness. And shortness.**

**~Piki :B**


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